


Forever, then

by Lilibet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25127836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilibet/pseuds/Lilibet
Summary: Obi-Wan was tucked against him on the couch, a line of warmth down Qui-Gon’s side, head resting on his shoulder. The faint smell of bacta tickled his nose and he brought Obi-Wan’s hand to his mouth, tracing gentle kisses across the healing skin. Obi-Wan huffed, a soft smile playing on his lips.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 80





	Forever, then

  
He never thought he could have this.

There were times Qui-Gon had to pinch himself to check this wasn’t some elaborate dream, or a coma induced delirium concocted from the deepest parts of his mind. The parts he kept under careful lock and key, only taking them out when he was alone and shielded under the protective cloak of nightfall, caressing them gently before tucking them away again when dawn crested over the horizon.

He never thought he _deserved_ this. If he was honest with himself, he still didn’t think he did. But every time the thought so much as crossed his mind, Obi-Wan would look at him as if he could read his mind, chastising him with an exasperated air and a fond tilt to his smile.

After Naboo, Obi-Wan had been knighted while Qui-Gon floated unconscious in a bacta tank, sent out into the far-flung edges of the galaxy to do the council’s bidding. He’d not had a moment with him since before that fateful day, and all through his long and arduous recovery he’d missed Obi-Wan’s presence acutely.

Laid up in his sickbed in the healer’s wing, restless and impatient with his slow progress, Qui-Gon would hear of Obi-Wan’s exploits and successes as a Jedi Knight. The news acting as both balm and dagger to Qui-Gon’s healing soul.

He was inordinately proud of Obi-Wan, of course, and he knew he deserved all the recognition he received. He’d never doubted the abilities of his former Padawan and was forever grateful that his own reputation hadn’t negatively affected Obi-Wan’s.

But what had rankled was hearing of Obi-Wan’s successes through word of mouth and whispered gossip around the temple, instead of from Obi-Wan himself.

Qui-Gon had ached to see him again. To make tea with him and settle down together onto the well-worn but comfortable couch of Qui-Gon’s quarters and talk into the small hours of the night in their usual way. To watch Obi-Wan explain the complex inner workings of whichever topic had recently snagged his interest, hands flying through the air in accompaniment to his excited explanations, eyes ablaze and voice impassioned. He could listen to Obi-Wan talk for hours, the melodic cadence of his voice so enchanting that half the time he could barely remember what Obi-Wan had been talking about. Only remembering the way he looked, his auburn hair like liquid fire in the setting sunlight, his soft smiles and cheeky smirks over the rim of his mug, the freckles dusting the apples of his cheeks.

His heart would twist painfully in his chest and he would chastise himself for the treacherous feelings, attempting to release them to the force but always failing.

Qui-Gon hadn’t been as wilfully ignorant as many thought him to be. He’d known that the chasm between them had been his own doing. Casting Obi-Wan aside in front of the council hadn’t been his smartest move. Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship had begun on rocky ground, and Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan’s fear of abandonment ran deep.

In that moment in the council chamber, when Obi-Wan’s hurt and betrayal had rippled down their shared bond, he’d known what a terrible mistake he’d made. Obi-Wan had shut down his end of the bond with a ruthlessness that staggered him.

It was such a startling contrast to their bond now. Deeper and more expansive than anything he’d thought possible, wide open, their love for each other flowing freely between them like a river.

Obi-Wan was tucked against him on the couch, a line of warmth down Qui-Gon’s side, head resting on his shoulder. The faint smell of bacta tickled his nose and he brought Obi-Wan’s hand to his mouth, tracing gentle kisses across the healing skin. Obi-Wan huffed, a soft smile playing on his lips. It seemed he too had noticed the similarity to that fateful day, years ago.

It was a day Qui-Gon loved and hated in equal measure; the day he nearly lost everything and then gained even more.

They had begun repairing their relationship, slowly mending the cracks and the shattered psyches, circling each other like binary stars, slowly edging closer, when Obi-Wan had been assigned a dangerous mission to the Outer Rim. He’d bid his goodbyes and Qui-Gon had heard nothing from him for three months.

He’d never felt as unbalanced as he did during those long months, adrift in an ocean of uncertainty, the horizon forever out of reach. It was a stretch of time in which Qui-Gon was neither here nor there; merely existing, lost, gazing at nothing in particular. But in that dwindling space between consciousness he was drowning, sinking in thoughts that couldn’t be verbalised, lest he be reprimanded by those who barely understood the nuance of the torrid thing they called _attachment_. He’d learned that it was better to let the mind be as empty as that ocean horizon than to suffer the loss of hope and the tide of emotion it brought.

He'd also learned that when it came to Obi-Wan, he could do no such thing.

  


* * *

  


When word came of Obi-Wan’s return to the temple, Qui-Gon’s elation had been quickly snuffed out upon learning of the condition of his return.

Outside the healer’s halls, one look at Mace’s pinched expression had told Qui-Gon exactly how bad it was. Dread had crept up his spine like an icy chill, his stomach full of lead and his mind worryingly devoid of thought.

He’d paced for hours after Mace had left, the ghost of the hand he’d laid upon his shoulder a phantom against his skin.

After the sun had tracked across the sky and settled beneath the horizon, Vokara had finally emerged from the halls. She’d looked exhausted from head to toe and Qui-Gon had braced himself for the worst.

She’d nodded once and the sheer strength of the relief Qui-Gon had felt took his legs out from under him like the current of a river.

Obi-Wan had looked pale and weak lying in his sickbed, a far cry from the man he’d grown into. Qui-Gon had planted himself at his bedside, keeping a silent vigil while he waited for him to wake when he was ready.

After a day though, he’d started talking. Nonsense things of little consequence. The current recent book he’d been, what recent thing Mace had done to purposefully aggravate him, rating all the teas in his collection by aroma, flavour, and then colour.

But when night had fallen on the second day, emotion had bubbled up inside of him and he’d found that he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. All his pent-up feelings, his regrets, his apologies for all the ways he’d disrespected Obi-Wan, the forbidden love he’d harboured for him over the years. It all came tumbling out until Qui-Gon’s voice had grown hoarse and then given out altogether.

He’d looked at Obi-Wan to find him awake in the soft morning light, and whatever walls had remained crumbled under Obi-Wan’s words.

_"There is no light without darkness. We must balance them, so the bad doesn’t seem so terrible, and we can truly appreciate the good."_

Qui-Gon, emotionally drained, had nothing left to hide.

_"I will stay as long as you wish me to and not a day more, even if I still love you. So even if I don’t feel alive without you, even if you have become the air that I breathe, if you don’t love me...I will go."_

Obi-Wan had simply smiled.  
  


* * *

  
  
After that, their relationship had changed in a way Qui-Gon hadn’t expected, although had always secretly hoped for in the deep recesses of his mind. Obi-Wan made a full recovery and Qui-Gon remained at his vigil, through all the good and the bad, the yelling and the accusing.

He’d weathered Obi-Wan’s anger, waiting until it cracked into the deep guttural sobs of relief, the bittersweet emotional release of finally giving voice to everything he’d kept locked away from Qui-Gon for all these years.

It had been no less than he deserved, and with Obi-Wan against him now, injured but safe and healing, he knew it had been worth it. The path to where they were now had been a long and gruelling one, but Qui-Gon would do it all again if it meant he could have Obi-Wan in his arms like this.

He hugged Obi-Wan closer and recited the words he’d said that day in the hospital, softly murmuring them into Obi-Wan’s hair.

Obi-Wan gazed up at him, all soft smiles and sleepy eyes, and whispered, “Forever, then.”

Qui-Gon had never been able to say no to Obi-Wan.  
  
  



End file.
